


To Work for Zachariah

by crOwnlEssG



Series: Notes Tied to Balloons [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Family, Angel Siblings, Angelic Family, Angelic Siblings, Angels, Brothers, Castiel's childhood, Castiel's fledglinghood, Cherubs - Freeform, Childhood, Collection of stories, Cupid - Freeform, Cupids, Family, Fledglinghood, Fledglings, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Greek Underworld, Heaven, Hesther, Inias - Freeform, Mini-story, Notes Tied to Balloons, NttB, Persephone - Freeform, Pre-Series, Series: Notes Tied to Balloons, Three chapters, To Work, To Work for Zachariah, Underworld, cherub, seventh story, stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crOwnlEssG/pseuds/crOwnlEssG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a fledgling, Castiel had a very big, very interesting family. Each story will stand on its own and will consist of three chapters. Seventh story's up: Most would think that errands are simple to do, but to one angel that is a grave misunderstanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1st

_Golden soldiers born much older than they'll ever live to be._

_Diving into a sea of hands in a long forgotten city._

_Here the rain falls ever after, the strangled vines hang dead in rafters._

_The blood rushed to your head induces a laughter, endlessly._

_._

_Original Fire – Audioslave_

* * *

At that moment, Castiel believed he had never flown faster.

He would say that he was reveling in the feeling of pure exhilaration, if only his well-being was not at stake. It was getting harder to suppress his fear, which seemed to increase with every frantic wing-beat, but he kept trying to squash it down because the last thing he needed was his thinking being clouded by emotions.

Hundreds of trees whizzed by in the darkness as he madly hurtled through the claw-like boughs in an attempt to shake off his pursuers. Unfortunately, they were unrelenting and just as keen on getting what they want, which so happened to be him.

" _Thief! Thief!_ " the two harpies screeched after him.

Castiel hated to be called that, hated it with all his being. He knew stealing was wrong but he was simply following orders, and disobedience was a far worse crime than theft. He kept telling himself that as he forced his wings to move more quickly and his grip on his burden to tighten.

The land stretched on and the harpies began ruthlessly attacking him, attacks which Castiel could barely defend himself against because he was too focused on flying, on getting out of the area full of spells and wards that prevented him from traveling to Heaven instantly and putting an end to this horror. And also because he did not have the strength to fight back, not right now.

If he were in his peak condition, there would be no problem in battling two harpies. However, the day had terribly worn him down; he had to go up against other dreadful creatures to obtain the ingredients he required. None of the tasks were easy, and Castiel found it a miracle that he still had the energy to stay ahead of the harpies.

In the distance, he could see the trees clearing up, and the rocks and crevices of a mountain wall steadily gaining more detail. He just had to make it to the other side of the mountain and he could finally transport to Heaven.

Suddenly, one of the harpies managed to tackle him and sent them both plummeting off a cliff, down into a huge, gaping chasm. Throughout their descent, she shrieked and raked at his form to snatch the object he had stolen from them.

" _Thief! Give it back!_ " she yelled.

Castiel refused to look at her entirely. There was something about harpies that disturbed a small part inside him, perhaps it was that they appeared to be the perverted manifestation of angels: their wings ugly and stinking of decay, their bodies hardly any different from those they had mutilated, their beings rich in savage emotions and the mere thought of survival.

He shielded his load as much as he was able to while her talons slashed at him. Castiel was doing fine in not crying out in pain, until it came to the point where she struck awfully close to where his Grace was and he nearly dropped his cargo in the process. If this went on, he or his load or both will be reduced to shreds.

In an act of desperation, Castiel let go of his load, allowing it to enter into free-fall. The harpy attached to him watched in a mixture of disbelief and rage as his bundle escaped him. Her distraction granted Castiel the opportunity to unleash a small portion of his Grace, enough to simply stun and momentarily blind the harpy.

She howled in pain and her claws automatically released him; she descended in an inelegant spiral and landed on a ledge. Once Castiel was sure that she will not be bothering him for a while, he swiftly chased after his cargo, which was already several meters from him.

The whole attempt was a risky maneuver; there was a chance that he would lose his precious load to the abyss if he had been a second too late, and the reason he let it drop in the first place was to avoid the light of his Grace searing it, not to mention prevent the harpy from damaging it in her fury. Thankfully, he no longer had to worry about that as his hands wrapped around the wool blanket that securely covered his stolen object.

The other side of the mountain was just a few miles beyond him, and in Castiel's eagerness, he had forgotten about the remaining harpy until he was rammed against the rocky wall.

" _Thief! Wretched thief!_ " she screamed.

Castiel struggled futilely against her hold, already feeling much more weakened after he had drained himself from revealing his Grace. He could not risk doing that again, or anything else that bordered along that degree.

" _Give it back! Thief!_ " the harpy continued shrieking.

With his options running out, Castiel drew his blade and, with a whispered apology, stabbed the harpy's chest, just below where her heart should be, or at least he hoped that that was the correct spot. The wound ought to inconvenience her but not kill. Castiel turned away from the pained, mortified expression that would most likely be on the harpy's face as he felt her talons unclench from him and heard her fading screeches.

He wished he could have a moment to recover, albeit he knew that he cannot afford to waste time on something as silly as tending to possible trauma. Castiel trained his eyes above and headed for Zachariah's office.

O_x

"Welcome back." said Zachariah, although there was a hint in his voice that gave Castiel the idea that he was not pleased. "I trust that you've accomplished your task, given that you are eight seconds late," he cuttingly went on.

Castiel held his ground, which was a difficult accomplishment given that he was utterly exhausted and unnerved at the way his superior was analyzing him. "Yes, sir." he responded.

He glanced up and saw that Zachariah still had a somewhat bitter aura.

"My apologies for being late." Castiel added timidly.

That got a more positive effect out of Zachariah as his expression slackened. He took the object Castiel held in his hands – the object that Castiel had nearly died for multiple times – and unwrapped the protective blanket to reveal a lengthy, beautifully designed holy branch.

Zachariah began to inspect the branch, and Castiel was certain that he was checking for any mistakes and inaccuracies rather than admiring or appreciating the extremely hard work he had put into it. After all, the sole purpose of the branch was simply to be new the centerpiece in Zachariah's office because he was getting bored with the old one: a miniature sculpture of the seventh star in creation made out of amber-polished pterodactyl bones.

"Did this come from the twenty-seventh birch tree in the patch?" asked Zachariah.

"Yes, sir." Castiel replied.

"Was it cut at precisely nine and a half feet?"

"Yes, sir."

"Under the angle of the autumn moon on its third hour?"

"Yes, sir."

"Smoothened by the front teeth of a chimera?"

"Yes, sir."

"Heated by newborn salamanders?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tip dipped in raven's blood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Sprinkled with liquid diamond and crushed manticore bones?"

"Yes, sir."

With every affirmation he gave, Castiel could virtually feel himself returning to all the trouble he had been through. Fighting monsters to acquire their teeth and bones, going to the farthest and most hostile edges of the Earth to find the proper materials, meticulously ensuring that every measurement was _exact_ …

"There's a scratch on it." Zachariah remarked.

If Castiel was in possession of a heart, it would have skipped a beat.

"There's only one place where a thing like this belongs to, and that's the trash." said Zachariah with as much resolution as their Father when He decided to Create.

If Castiel focused enough, he could hear the low snarls of his superior's lion face in the background before Zachariah incinerated the holy branch right in front of him, like it was nothing more than a common candle to burn and waste away.

Somehow, Castiel maintained an expressionless façade even though his Grace withered a tad.

Before he was even aware of it, Zachariah was deliberately circling him like a predator assessing its trapped prey. "Have you encountered… difficulties along the way?" he asked, and Castiel wished to believe that he was actually concerned about his welfare.

"Well – "

"Don't answer that. If there were problems – ones that are significant enough to concern me – then you wouldn't even be standing upright now, would you? Or you wouldn't have even shown up to my office in the first place." stated Zachariah derisively.

All Castiel could do was bow his head, in humility, in fear, in embarrassment, in anguish, he was not sure. The only thing he was certain of was that he wanted nothing more than to leave the office, and perhaps find rest and solace in his garrison. But he had to persevere, he needed to. This was a requirement for all fledglings, to work under someone who was older and several ranks higher than them to gain experience. Some called it special tutorials, while others called it training for absolute service. The rest, in hushed tones, defined it as doing tedious chores for their lazy, abusive superiors.

No one could select who they will work under, every pairing was randomly chosen and it was just Castiel's luck that he had gotten Zachariah. And the law mentioned that a fledgling must continue to work until his or her superior was satisfied, which in Zachariah's case was not likely to happen any decade soon.

Castiel then felt a hand land on his head in a deceptive act of compassion as Zachariah led them to one of the largest windows he had in his office. The view overlooked one of the rarities in Heaven: an ocean. The shade of blue was so magnificent that angels were often left awestruck by it. Even the waves were to behold as they were hypnotically calming, yet the way they undulated showed that they have the potential of instantly causing massive destruction.

"Heaven is perfect, Castiel. Everything within it is precise and must function without fault." began Zachariah. "I work hard to keep it that way, which is why I expect nothing less than perfection from _any_ results. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." said Castiel.

"Remember, I'm doing this for your own good. You need to learn that reality's a tough place, and if you can't do a job right, don't bother doing it at all." said Zachariah, a threatening tone lining his voice. He grabbed hold of Castiel's form and turned him around so they faced each other. "If someone asks you if you're hurt, you say…?"

"I'm fine." Castiel dutifully responded.

"If they ask for your opinion on a topic," continued Zachariah.

"My opinion is not important."

"If they question your actions,"

"I'm a soldier of Heaven. I carry out God's word and His will is just."

"And?"

Castiel tried to find the right words. "I am following the orders of my superior and he is never wrong. I am honored to be in his service." he concluded.

"Good. Now I want you to fly along to the Learning Halls and prepare the lecture theater I had reserved for my sermons. I'm expecting a big audience and I need everything to go accordingly." said Zachariah in the most cheerful manner someone like him could muster. He went to the opposite end of his office and gathered up three very big sacks.

"Here, you'll need these for setting up the room." he said, practically dumping them at Castiel.

For a moment, Castiel merely stared at the sacks that were pretty much blocking his view of Zachariah; that was probably because the sacks were _taller_ than him. He tested the weight of one and discovered that, if he were a human child, he supposed he would then have to carry three huge sacks filled with boulders. And in his currently fatigued condition, he wondered if he would even be able to haul just one of them.

"Get going. Go on." said Zachariah.

Reluctantly, Castiel obeyed.

O_x

The sacks contained a tremendous quantity of herbs, chalk and charcoal, and gems and minerals. Herbs to provide a 'stimulating' atmosphere; chalk and charcoal for putting up sigils all over the theater that promoted wisdom, guidance and prosperity; and lastly, gems and minerals to be strategically placed in the room to add a bit of splendor.

The lecture theater Zachariah had reserved was one of the largest in all of Heaven, and Castiel was on the brink of collapsing.

He decided to venture out of the theater for a moment; he had to clear his system of the pungent herbs that were starting to become noxious to his senses. Without any concern if someone might see him, Castiel let himself slump to the floor and lean sloppily on the wall by the door. He still had to set up the finishing touches, he knew that, but first he absolutely needed to recuperate. His Grace was burning up his final energy reserves and he simply cannot keep going right now.

Just as he was about to enter into meditation, he felt a presence approach him, and then the happiest voice Castiel had ever heard in his existence.

"Oh, who do we have here?"

Castiel opened his eyes to find a cherub joyfully staring down at him. That was all he got to register before he was picked up and hugged intensely.

"Does baby brother need a hug? Does he? Yes he does! Yes he does! Aren't you just the most precious thing in all of creation!" the cherub coddled, talking to him and rocking him around like some sort of human infant.

"Please put me down." Castiel managed to say as he was practically being crushed.

The cherub giggled. "Not until you get the biggest hug ever!" he declared.

So Castiel was subjected to 'the biggest hug ever,' and it was both one of the most comforting and one of the most horrible things he had experienced. He did not understand the sudden appearance of a rainbow above them though.

"Thank you." said Castiel once he was put back down, albeit he referred to being released… not the hug.

The cherub – Castiel wished he was taught on how to identify their names – lovingly kissed his head before letting him go entirely. "What's a sweet little fledgling like you doing here?" he inquired worriedly.

At that, Castiel stood up straighter. "I'm under my superior's orders. I am to make sure his lecture theater is ready." he answered as professionally as he could.

"All by yourself?" the cherub asked, shocked.

"Yes."

The cherub looked like he was about to go into a fit of tears at Castiel's misery, but then he brightened up almost instantly.

"We'd _love_ to help you!" he merrily proclaimed.

Castiel tilted his head at one of the words "We?" he repeated.

"The rest of the cherubs are in the next room. We're having our annual hugging seminar!" the cherub announced, and he was jumping and spinning around in sheer enthusiasm.

Castiel was almost too afraid to allow him to clarify on that. "…Hugging seminar?"

"Yes! Hugs, cuddles, snuggles, nuzzles, embraces and even pats on the back if there's enough time!" he happily explained. "Anyone is welcome to join us! Heaven needs to rejoice in the power of love!" And for emphasis, he giddily kissed Castiel on both cheeks.

"Perhaps when I am not occupied with my duties," said Castiel as he walked over to Zachariah's nearly empty sacks as his work suddenly became ten times more appealing to him.

"Of course, of course. But if you ever need to be cheered up, or if you know someone who needs to be reminded that they are loved, you know where to find us." said the cherub.

"I appreciate the offer." said Castiel politely.

The cherub sighed and smiled fondly at him. "Come here!" Castiel had not even done anything yet and he was already being hugged again.

"I love you!" exclaimed the cherub.

"And… I, you." said Castiel rather uncertainly.

For a long time, the cherub just stood there, hugging him. Only when Castiel shifted on purpose did the cherub finally return him to the floor and go to the other lecture theater. Castiel chose to pretend the past few minutes never happened and went back to work.

Eventually, the corridors were starting to fill up with angels, and the strange part was that most of them were actually going to the cherubs' lecture theater. As the doors closed and opened to their room, Castiel caught the sounds of laughter and rejoicing inside, although he was unsure if the cherubs were the only ones who were celebrating. So much for Zachariah's big audience.

"Ah, Castiel. Is my room ready?" asked Zachariah, clapping him from behind.

Castiel was so startled at his superior's arrival that he was at a loss for words for a while. "Y-Yes – "

Apparently, that was all the reply Zachariah needed for him to stride over to the lecture theater. Unfortunately, he was heading for the cherubs' lecture theater, and now that Castiel considered it, both entrances appeared the same and anyone could mistake one for the other.

"Sir, you're going the wrong way." said Castiel.

Zachariah whipped around and scrutinized him with his lion-face. "Excuse me?" he said ominously.

"You're… going the wrong way… sir." said Castiel nervously.

"Castiel, I've been lecturing in this place for millennia, long before a cognitive thought entered your mind. So I think I know which chamber I'm supposed to be speaking in." snapped Zachariah. He turned toward the cherubs' room again and smiled conceitedly. "And that is obviously the one where I can hear a massive crowd murmuring in anticipation, hardly able to contain their excitement." he stated.

There was nothing more Castiel can do to change his mind once his goals were set. As Zachariah walked in, Castiel followed and waited anxiously at the doors. He heard the muffled sounds of a hundred cherubs applauding, Zachariah yelping, a lot of scuffling, silence, and then finally contented humming from the cherubs.

Castiel hesitantly pushed the door a sliver of the way in and was greeted by the sight of Zachariah, totally fuming, in the midst of a cherub group hug.

Zachariah caught Castiel's gaze and, if it were possible, his face became even sulkier. "Not a word to anyone." he muttered.


	2. 2nd

_An angel's smile is what you sell_

_You promised me heaven then put me through hell_

_._

_You Give Love a Bad Name – Bon Jovi_

* * *

Throughout his life, Castiel knew that the humans prayed to God, that they had faith in the same Being he lovingly called his Father. He liked to think that taking some of their prayers into account made him feel closer to the humans, and he grew ever fonder of them at their devotion and trust to the Creator. However, he did not realize just how many humans actually prayed, or just how bulky a single prayer can reach, until he had been assigned in the organizing section in the Library.

Stacks of prayers piled up all around him, and if Castiel was not careful, he could get lost in the semi-maze he had arranged. There were prayers from people begging to be healed from a sickness, from people wishing for a solution to their problems, from people wanting forgiveness and redemption, love, safety, more material things, restraint, peace, an epiphany…

And these were not merely the recent prayers. Zachariah ordered him to organize _every_ prayer that had ever been conceived. The prayers of the past were simply to be converted into records to track the development of human thought and faith, to perhaps gain a more sensible pattern in order to understand humans better and, as Zachariah mentioned, to see more clearly which direction they were heading so the angels could have more control over them.

Basically, he had to categorize every prayer according to its type, its number of words, its exact date and place of origin, the age and sex of the person when it had been made, how much sincerity and respect the words contained and, with the recent prayers, its sense of urgency.

Castiel had tended to the newer ones first because the humans who had made them were most likely still alive and therefore were in greater need of help. Fresh prayers still had energy in them; they can float and fly to any angel who had the ability to answer them. Their speed would depend on the weight of the prayer: if it involved consoling extreme grief, for instance, the prayer would travel fast; if the prayer was simply a request for something like a new dog, it would travel at a more languid pace. Eventually, Castiel's pile of new prayers lessened, but did not vanish entirely since, every minute or so, there would always be another human getting on their knees and praying.

The old prayers were no longer as vibrant as when they had been new. Most of them were like ancient parchment now, stale and dull and cannot even float. It was almost sad to look at them, especially at the unanswered ones. Castiel knew that not every prayer should be answered, but the more he perused the stock, the more prayers he discovered had been simply ignored. Signs had been made to mark which prayers had been answered and which prayers were rejected to be answered; at least the rejection would mean that the prayer had been acknowledged. He had counted, so far, fifty prayers that did not get any sign at all.

Castiel wished he could, officially, answer prayers one day. He wanted to help.

As he was done with more than a quarter of his work, Zachariah burst into the room, ruining half of the work he had already finished.

"Castiel! I have an errand to give you!" he proclaimed. Zachariah looked around for him, but the stacks of prayers blocked Castiel from his view. "Where are you? You better not be slacking off." The more he searched, the more his wings knocked down a neatly arranged pile of prayers.

"I'm here, sir." Castiel timidly called out.

Zachariah whipped around to his left, making another pile fall over. "Ah, there you are. Have you always been this small?" he asked, squinting at him.

Since he was his superior, Castiel did his best to hide his embarrassment and wounded pride.

"Anyway, I have a new assignment for you." Zachariah went on. "You are to interrogate a man in the Greek Underworld, not to be confused with the Norse or Egyptian ones. Now, here is the profile of the man," He gave Castiel a rolled up scroll that had the man's picture and other necessary details. "Here are _several_ maps of the Greek Underworld – because I can't have you getting lost and failing the task at hand – and here are some instructions in case you come across nasty locals, and here are the questions you need the man to answer to." said Zachariah, and as he was talking, he had been dumping a plethora of scrolls into Castiel's arms, and the more load Castiel received, the closer he was to toppling over.

"Am I to depart immediately, sir?" asked Castiel.

"Yes, and I want you back in no less than two days. Understood?" barked Zachariah.

Castiel, with difficulty, shifted his load into a more balanced angle. "Yes… but, what about – ?" He was supposed to inquire Zachariah if he was just going to leave his work in organizing prayers when someone interrupted him.

Amitiel, who apparently overheard their conversation, came gliding down from her cozy perch and landed in between them with far more finesse than Zachariah could ever dream of mustering. "You're not really sending this poor thing to the Underworld, are you?" she asked Zachariah, mortified.

"I am, and you have no authority over me to say otherwise." said Zachariah stubbornly.

"He's just a fledgling!" Amitiel defended.

"A fledgling who follows orders." said Zachariah, his tone growing more irritable and impatient by the second. He started dragging Castiel to the exit, as if to signify the end of the discussion, and Castiel helplessly stumbled along.

Though Amitiel did not do anything to halt them, she chased after them and said, "Fledglings are not supposed to be involved in the matters of the dead. That is the law in Heaven. If he should go, then he would need a guardian to accompany him."

Both Castiel and Zachariah stared at her, Castiel out of relief and Zachariah out of annoyance. "You can't be serious." said Zachariah.

"I am the angel of truth, Zachariah. I can tell no lie. And if you still allow the fledgling to go alone, I'd have no choice but to report you." said Amitiel seriously.

If there was anything that Zachariah feared, it was the higher authorities. The grimace he wore was so unpleasant that it was as if one of the archangels threatened to rip his wings off.

Finally, very reluctantly, Zachariah let his wings spread out entirely in preparation for the long flight ahead and glared at Amitiel. "Come, Castiel. Amitiel will take care of the prayers now." he snarled petulantly.

O_x

They flew until they reached the entrance to the Underworld; from there, they had to travel in other, less conspicuous means in order to not draw any unwanted attention on them. They were angels after all, and while it was not in their nature to be ashamed of who they were, dabbling with other religions was always a risky business for them. Disputes were constant and often ended with very undesirable results. For once, Castiel was thankful to be within Zachariah's close proximity.

With flight not being an option anymore, the only possible solution was to do it the old-fashioned way: they had to ride with Charon, the ferryman.

In Heaven, there were angels who, despite their beauty, frightened Castiel. Now, peering up at Charon, in spite of his hauntingly unkempt appearance, Castiel sensed that he was strangely more approachable compared to his other siblings.

"We need to get to – " Zachariah began.

"You're not dead." said Charon plainly. His voice sounded like the long, distant echoes of boulders that had fallen from a great height.

Zachariah made an offended face at being interrupted but composed himself. "Well, I hear you make exceptions." he said.

"To mortals. You two are not mortals." stated Charon impassively.

"Does it really matter?" snapped Zachariah. "Just take us to the Asphodel Meadows and back and then we'll leave you to your… exciting life." he said scathingly.

Charon narrowed his eyes at Zachariah, which were no more than empty sockets that glowed with the intensity of a furnace. "The Asphodel Meadows would require passage through the River Lethe. That is not a part of my usual route." he said.

"And we're not exactly your usual passengers, are we?" countered Zachariah impatiently.

As Zachariah and Charon glared at each other, sort of like a duel, Castiel could not help but feel nervous about where they were. It was not Hell, he knew that the Greek Underworld was different from Hell, yet there were still striking similarities: the place reeked of desolateness and of souls stagnating in niches. It was cold and full of whispers, whispers so old that the words cannot be made out anymore.

"I would need payment." said Charon, pulling Castiel out of his reverie.

" _Payment_? Angels shouldn't have to pay to anyone! I'll have to have a word with your boss concerning that." complained Zachariah.

Their argument continued, which basically consisted of Zachariah protesting about every little detail and boasting on about how angels were far more superior to be subjected to the same treatment as mortals, while Charon merely repeated the rules in a calm manner. They were wasting time, Castiel surmised. If everyone would just cooperate, they would be getting their task done much sooner.

Charon said that he required payment. Castiel tried to recall every bit of knowledge he possessed on Greek culture and realized that they would need a specific type of coin, although Castiel could not remember enough of its details for him to conjure one. He looked around but there was not a coin in sight either. Finally, as an act of desperation and since his powers were still too limited to create anything extraordinary out of thin air, he invoked a couple of daisies and violets to spring from the ground.

Zachariah and Charon eyed him questioningly.

"Castiel, this is no time to be fooling around." bellowed Zachariah.

"Would these do… as payment?" Castiel shyly asked Charon.

"You think _flowers_ can be considered as payment? Of all the idiotic things that went into that head of yours – "

Charon silenced Zachariah with a wave of his long oar, and knelt down to inspect the flowers. "Daisies… for innocence. And violets… for humility." he murmured, caressing each petal in the same way a parent would stroke the head of a newborn. Charon stared at Castiel for what felt like an eternity, and as Castiel stared back he saw that the fire in the ferryman's eyes had softened to an almost tender glow, and the light reminded Castiel of a sunrise.

"I will accept these flowers as payment." said Charon.

"You will?" exclaimed Zachariah and Castiel at the same time, the former more out of skepticism and the latter out of delight.

Charon straightened up. "It's been a long time since anything pure and beautiful graced these caverns. And I haven't had the chance to go outside for a while now." he said as he clambered onto his boat.

"You can't be serious about the flowers," whined Zachariah.

"If you reject them, then you will have no payment, and I will not take you to the Asphodel Meadows." said Charon darkly.

Zachariah appeared to be on the verge of another argument, but thought better of it and sulkily got into the boat as well. Castiel followed and sat in the middle of Charon and his superior; once everyone was settled, the little boat set off.

The water was the color of smoke, and for a moment, Castiel nearly believed they were not traveling on a river at all but floating on thick, dirty mist, except the oar kept making a quiet splashing noise whenever it came down. Castiel dared to peer slightly over the edge to see if there were any fish in the river, but even with his enhanced sight, the water remained cloudy to him. He wondered if the river even had a bottom.

They continued to drift in silence, and as they progress further inward, the whispers became slightly louder, though not to the point of being understood. Shadows were also more prominent in the area, stretching to immeasurable lengths and appearing to reach out to anything for purchase, as if latching onto a solid surface would prevent them from slipping away.

"Sir? How come there are several Underworlds? Why can't all the souls just go to Heaven or Hell to make things easier for everybody?" Castiel asked Zachariah as quietly as he could, albeit his voice echoed anyway. He meant no offense when he posed his inquiry. It was just that, after studying a multitude of cultures, entire systems seemed so complex that it was a miracle a soul even had the chance to experience some semblance of an afterlife. There were so many factors to consider, so many rules to follow, so many beliefs to uphold; would it not be simpler if there were less versions of life after death?

Zachariah scowled at him. "Issues like that will be explained thoroughly to you once we return." he said contemptibly, and the way he uttered 'thoroughly' meant that he would not be nice in his clarifications. "For now, don't ask stupid questions."

Shame permeated Castiel's Grace and his wings wilted to the floor of the boat. "My apologies." he murmured.

The rest of their journey was filled with an uneasy hush. Their boat was changing directions more and more frequently now, as if the landscape evolved in its intricateness the deeper they went in. After a while, they ventured into a humongous cave that extended to nearly five miles. Its walls were coated in a sort of phosphorescent paint, albeit the light it emitted was so dim, or the surrounding darkness was so formidable, that it was like they were in the depths of oblivion.

Castiel examined the water, or tried to, but discovered that it was impossible to tell where the cave wall ended and the river began, even with his heightened senses. This alarmed him.

And then he felt… weird. His eyes wanted to close, and his entire form felt tired all of a sudden. He did not realize that his grip on consciousness was slipping until he hit the side of the boat in a slow collapse. Castiel forced himself to be more attentive, prying his eyes wide open and holding himself in a rigid posture. However, his attempts were in vain as, a minute later, the same strange lethargy plagued his Grace again and he found himself unintentionally hitting the side of the boat once more.

"What's wrong with him?" snapped Zachariah. He sounded distant to Castiel's hearing, as if he was on the other end of the cave. Regardless, Castiel was certain that his superior was giving him a very disapproving look.

"We are passing through Hypnos' lair." replied Charon, and Castiel almost could not hear him at how exhausted he surprisingly felt. Was Hypnos' lair the whole cave then?

"And Hypnos is…?" Zachariah pressed on irately.

"The god of sleep." said Charon. "While the little one is not mortal, he is still somewhat affected by the god's radiating power."

Without even glancing, Castiel knew Zachariah's glare at him intensified. "Just so you know, Castiel, this is unacceptable behavior as an angel _and_ a soldier." he said.

Castiel wanted to apologize for his weakness, but even the simple task of forming words eluded him in his present condition. He felt himself sway a bit.

"Stay in the middle. Lie down if you must. Just don't fall into the water." Charon coolly told him.

This time, Castiel struggled to get the words out of his mouth. "What happens if I fall in?" he asked.

Charon said nothing and merely stared ahead at the end of the cave.

It was not long before they exited Hypnos' cave and the weariness left Castiel as quickly as a chill vanishing under direct sunlight. To ensure that the languid effects had truly left him, Castiel sat up a tad straighter than what was necessary and flexed his wings, and to his relief, he could sense energy returning to him and circulating throughout his Grace. His movements were not slow and uncoordinated anymore, and his thoughts were no longer muddled.

In fact, his thoughts were coming back more sharply and much quicker than he expected, and the force was like an attack. For the most part, his memories of organizing tons of prayers assaulted him; every word brought an increasing amount of pain and every other little detail hacked away at his mental defenses.

"Something the matter, little one?" asked Charon.

Castiel wondered if he had done anything that may have alerted the others of his inner distress, but he could not be sure about anything as the pain in his head magnified bit by bit. He spared a glance at Zachariah and noted that he was displeased with him once again.

"I'm fine." said Castiel, remembering Zachariah's lessons that he should _always_ deny the deterioration of his health.

Unfortunately, Charon did not believe him. "Do you have a headache?" he asked.

The pain was escalating to the point that even performing a head-tilt was impossible. "A headache?" repeated Castiel wearily.

"It's when you think about something too hard, or if you think about a lot of things for too long, your mind gets tired and it hurts." explained Charon. "People usually experience a headache after going through Hypnos' cave. It's like when the sluggishness wears off, their thoughts come back too quickly and it tends to be overwhelming." He took an old, worn chalice from underneath his robe, used it to scoop water from the river and then presented it to Castiel. "Here, take a sip."

Castiel regarded the large chalice warily. "What will it do to me?" he inquired.

"Drinking from the River Lethe will make someone forget. The dead here have to drink until all their memories are gone, to prepare them for the next life as purified souls." said Charon. "But for you, just a sip, just enough to get rid of your headache." he added when he saw Castiel's horrified expression.

As he continued to stare at the chalice, Castiel attempted to think about the situation as clearly as he could. Yes, the 'headache,' as Charon termed it, really, really hurt and he wanted it to stop hurting; but then, if he drank the water, he would forget all the prayers he had read, forget the innermost desires of humanity. Castiel realized he did not want that.

"No, thank you. I don't want to forget." he said to Charon.

Charon appeared rather surprised, albeit the look was more along the lines of satisfaction than disappointment. Meanwhile, Zachariah had other thoughts.

"Well I, for one, have a lot of things I wish to forget. So give me that," he said, wrenching the chalice from Charon's hands. Zachariah dipped it into the river and pulled it back up with the water practically overflowing at the surface.

"That's too much!" Charon cried out.

"I'm an angel. I'm certain I can handle this meager amount and control the flow of forgetfulness." said Zachariah confidently. And with that, he took a mighty swig from the chalice.

"Zeus help us." Castiel heard Charon mutter beside him.

The moment, presumably, when Zachariah had gulped down every drop of water, his eyes widened and the chalice tumbled out of his grasp. Something had happened, something wrong, Castiel was sure of it, and his assumptions were only proven right as an eerily blank expression manifested on his superior's face.

"Sir?" ventured Castiel. "Are you well?" he asked.

For a while, Zachariah showed no signs of responding. Then, he blinked and his eyes slowly found Castiel. "Yes. Of course. I'm sorry if I scared you." he said, and the common exasperation and arrogance that lined his voice had been replaced with an uncharacteristically lighter tone.

Castiel and Charon ogled at him in disbelief.

"What an odd place. Are you traveling here for leisure?" Zachariah inquired, looking around the Underworld as if it was not the frightening and dangerous site that it was. It would seem that Zachariah had underestimated the effects of the Lethe River.

"The Asphodel Meadows, your destination." said Charon, indicating the stretch of land that was suddenly five feet in front of them. It was obvious that he changed the subject on purpose.

Before anything else could happen, Charon was ushering the angels out of the boat and onto solid ground. The fact that Zachariah merely went along with the brusque gesture, without so much as a single complaint or a fowl glance, disturbed Castiel for some reason. As Castiel recovered from his stagger, he saw that Charon was rowing off.

"Wait! How do I fix him?" he yelled, pointing at Zachariah who was currently sitting stupidly on the grass.

"Fix him? Shouldn't this be an improvement?" said Charon.

As much as Castiel liked to have a more 'docile' superior, he knew that cannot be the case. "He's very important in Heaven. If it's to run efficiently, he is needed… in his proper mind." he said.

Charon seemed to pity him, but just slightly and only for an instant. "I'm sorry. I cannot do anything for him. Good luck with your task." he said, his words polite and sympathetic enough to not sound like he was mocking them. Barely a few seconds passed and the ferryman was gone.

"He is such a nice man. Have you two been friends for long?" asked Zachariah amiably.

This was not good, not good at all.

O_x

A part of Castiel wished that Amitiel had never informed them that he needed a guardian for him to be able to go to the Underworld. Though, another part of him was somewhat thankful to have company in such a strange, scary place.

Right now, with his headache mostly gone, he was trying his hardest to get things under control so the task they came here to fulfill could still be carried out. Since Zachariah had, grudgingly, agreed to come with him earlier, Castiel thought he would not need the maps and instructions anymore so he left them behind in the Library. He regretted that course of action as he frantically scanned the shores of the Asphodel Meadows.

He had no idea what to do. The information he required was either back in Heaven or with his superior's knowledge, both of which he cannot access at the moment. All Castiel had with him were the questions they were meant to ask the man they were searching, in case Zachariah would want to check if they had tackled everything. That, and he partially remembered what the man's face looked like, and he hoped to the Father that that would be enough to get them through this.

Castiel gathered what resolve he had and faced Zachariah. "We should be on our way." he stated. His voice wavered a little as he was not used to even suggesting anything to his superior.

At that, Zachariah stood up from where he had been crouched down, watching a pebble float in a puddle. "We should. I hope I haven't been keeping you waiting." he said.

It was ridiculous, but Castiel was even more afraid of Zachariah in this current state. The Underworld was a risky place and Castiel could barely take care of himself here, let alone another being. He did not know just how much Zachariah had forgotten and, frankly, he had no intention of finding out. Nonetheless, he was under orders, and to leave now would mean that he had failed in his mission and had disobeyed. Zachariah – the old one – would not like that.

So they set off, guided by Castiel's halfhearted instincts. The Asphodel Meadows would essentially mean that there would be a considerable amount of asphodels, yet Castiel could not see any so far. There was just a field of the dullest grass he had ever encountered, and the feeling of emptiness it possessed was so tremendous that Castiel wondered if the land was even inhabited at all.

If he were to fly to gain a better vantage point, he would be betraying their position to the malevolent forces in the Underworld. So they had to make do with walking. After some time, Castiel looked behind him to check on Zachariah, and when he did, he was shocked to find him fiddling so carelessly with his blade, in a way similar to how a human toddler would twiddle with a contraption they had never seen before.

"Sir, please put your blade down." said Castiel anxiously.

Zachariah glanced up at him and stopped playing with his blade. "Alright." he said. He casually dropped his blade to the grass and stood on the spot appearing to be proud of his achievement.

At first, Castiel was reluctant to grasp the blade. He was still a fledgling, and fledglings were not allowed to so much as touch a real heavenly weapon; in addition, this belonged to his superior, and to taint it with his Grace would be an insult. Although, given the circumstances, he had no choice; the blade will be more of use in his hands.

"I… I think I should hold onto your blade for now, sir." said Castiel nervously.

"By all means." replied Zachariah.

Castiel would never get used to him like this. Slowly, he picked up the blade and continued their journey, although he made sure to have Zachariah stay close to him.

"Anything I can do to help you out?" asked Zachariah genially.

It took a great deal of effort for Castiel to repress the sheer awkwardness he felt. "That won't be necessary." he replied.

They kept walking in silence.

"Do you know what my favorite color is?" Zachariah asked all of a sudden.

Castiel did not know how to answer that, or if he should even dignify that with an answer. "…I beg your pardon?" he said.

"I can't remember my favorite color, or if I even have one. What do you think?" said Zachariah.

His superior was actually asking for his opinion? It may be for a completely pointless query, and Zachariah was indeed not his usual self, but Castiel nevertheless felt a little… honored, if not disturbed beyond reason also. "Uhm… red?" he tried.

Zachariah thought about it. "Too strong." he said.

"Blue?" offered Castiel.

"Not really, no." said Zachariah after a moment.

More colors were voiced out, each being rejected after much careful deliberation. Finally, Castiel arrived at the color he hoped he would not have to suggest because, as naïve as he was, even _he_ knew that it held demeaning qualities. "…Pink?"

Oddly, Zachariah seemed to think about this more carefully than the previous ones. "Not too bright, not too dark, and it is very appealing to the eyes… Pink it is then!" he declared triumphantly. "Now, what about my favorite amphibian?"

Thankfully, Castiel was saved the trouble of entertaining Zachariah's silliness further when a village appeared a short distance away. As they made their way toward it, Castiel could make out a bunch of asphodels blooming nearby, though they were not as lovely as he had pictured them to be since they seemed even sicklier than the grass. Also, it occurred to him that the ground they were stepping on resembled ash more than soil, and that put him on edge.

When they arrived at the village, the first thing Castiel registered was the way the people behaved: it was… off. They were content in this place but that was all the emotion he felt from them. In Heaven, the souls were still capable of and freely expressed the emotions they had when alive; here, it was like virtually all the emotions had been removed and the souls operate at a sort of mechanical pace. It was as if more than half of their humanity had faded away.

Castiel gripped the scroll that had the questions and Zachariah's blade with apprehension as he prepared himself to go forward. "Please stay here, sir." he said over his shoulder.

"My pleasure." said Zachariah, giving him a friendly wave. There was a broken fence next to him, and he started skipping around it for some reason. Castiel would never get that image out of his mind.

He scoured the village for the man that even remotely looked like the one he could barely recall, but it was either that the man was not here or he simply could not remember more details and he might have already passed him by. The souls did not seem to notice him, or at least chose to ignore him, while they went on with chores and the like. The village itself was a dreary place, almost as bad as the slums in Greece. And there was this feeling of something coming – like when the sky was full of clouds and people did not know if it was going to rain, strong winds would come or the sun would come shining back at any minute – but that something, whatever it was, never arrived, or never will.

After searching the entire village, Castiel could not locate the man they were looking for, albeit he did see that there were other adjoining villages in the distance. Maybe the man was somewhere there. He returned to the place he left Zachariah at.

"I think we should move inward – sir?" Castiel stopped in his tracks when he noticed that Zachariah was gone. "Sir?" he tried again, louder. No one replied.

Castiel let his Grace briefly expand over the village to scan for his superior but failed to sense his presence. He began to panic, and as he did so, he went around physically looking for Zachariah in case his powers had become faulty, despite knowing perfectly well they were not. He peered into the windows of the houses, checked the barrels at the sides and in corners, weaved his way through the crowd, ventured into the outskirts of the village where the grass was long and the asphodels were clustered thickly together….

In his haste, Castiel bumped into a woman and fell down.

"Hey! Watch it!" the woman exclaimed. She was not as colorless as the other people; in fact, she seemed brighter, brighter than anything Castiel had ever seen in the Underworld, and a vibrant green glow tinged her skin. He caught a whiff of lilacs, strawberries and pumpkin from her aura, and would have been amazed by that if he were not in a state of alarm.

"I'm sorry." said Castiel shakily. He got up and was about to keep searching when the woman's hand restrained him.

"Whoah, whoah. What's the rush? What's an _angel_ doing here?" she asked, squinting at him as if she would be able to figure everything out just by staring at him in a different perspective.

Castiel was hesitant to say anything; she might be one of the things he should stay away from, after all. When he glanced down, he noted how strong her grip was on him, which contradicted the daintiness of her fingers. However, upon gazing up at her, he saw that her eyes were kind, understanding, like that of a beast taking care of her young. Castiel decided to tell her everything.

"Hm, quite a problem you got there." she commented once he was done. She knelt down to be on the same level as him, grinning as she did so. "Tell you what, I'll help you. I know every soul in the Underworld, not to mention every inch of this sinkhole. We'll find the guy you came here to in the first place, then we'll look for this Zach guy." she said.

"Thank you." said Castiel gratefully. He remembered Charon and the fact that he wanted compensation for his assistance, and became flustered. "Am I to pay you for your services? Because I don't have much – "

The woman held up a hand to him. "No payment. I'm just glad to spend time with someone who isn't dead for once." she chortled. "I'm Persephone, by the way." she added as she stood up.

"Castiel." replied Castiel.

"Funny name. But cute." she remarked, smirking. "Let's go. Oh, and don't eat any pomegranates if someone offers a free sample. They're bad for you." she said.

Castiel wondered why he would ever consume anything in the Underworld, or anywhere else for that matter. Nevertheless, he followed Persephone through the field of asphodels.

TBC


	3. 3rd

  
_Now you'll never see_   
_What you've done to me_   
_You can take back your memories_   
_They're no good to me_   
_And here's all your lies_   
_You can look me in the eyes_   
_With the sad, sad look_   
_That you wear so well_   


_._

_All-American Rejects – Gives You Hell_

* * *

It had taken a while, but Castiel and Persephone managed to locate the soul Castiel had been sent down to find. As it turned out, the information Zachariah wanted was about a clarification on a chant of a certain spell, since the soul had been a soothsayer back when he still needed to breathe. Drinking from the River Lethe had made him forget about almost everything, but his mind still had some semblance of clarity for the occult, which was a relief.

With that task out of the way, Castiel and Persephone had to look for Zachariah next. They traveled deeper into the Underworld, avoiding the rivers and the banks as much as possible, although what for, Persephone did not say. Soon, the two of them started talking, to fend off the pervading loneliness that seemed to be present everywhere. It later led to Castiel, inadvertently, venting out his frustrations, because there was finally someone who could listen to his grief and not chastise him about punishment or duty.

"…and this one time he ordered me to fly into the bottom of a volcano to collect fresh lava – " he dejectedly went on.

"Can angels your age handle that stuff?" asked Persephone, genuinely worried.

"I eventually discovered that that was not the case." replied Castiel.

"What happened?"

There was a timid pause. "…I couldn't fly for two Earth months." said Castiel.

Persephone clucked her tongue in concern. "You darling li'l sugarplum," she cooed. Then her tone quickly changed from compassionate to vexed. "Why do you put up with the guy?" she demanded.

"He's my superior." answered Castiel simply, automatically.

"That's it? If your dad told you to eat a barrel of armadillos, would you do it?" Persephone inquired.

"Uhm,"

"Well?"

Castiel's wings twitched in unease. "…I mustn't disobey my Father – " he began.

"So you're saying you'd _want_ to eat armadillos?" said Persephone.

"No! I like armadillos!" squealed Castiel. It was a weak response, but judging by the grim softening of Persephone's eyes, she knew that she had made her point.

"You're not his servant, you know." she said as they turned a corner. "Aren't you guys supposed to be righteous?" she asked with a sigh.

For a moment, Castiel questioned the definition of the word. "Zachariah believes he is righteous in his own mind." he stated.

Persephone made an annoyed huff at the back of her throat, yet otherwise said nothing as they continued walking. "Remind me again why we're even finding him?" she grumbled.

Aside from the fact that it was the right thing to do, Castiel honestly did not know.

After hours of wandering in the Underworld, the two of them came across a craggy landscape, populated by miles of stalactites, stalagmites and small murky puddles that had rippling surfaces despite the fact that the ground under their feet was completely motionless. Creatures that resembled spiders lurked in the fissures of the rocks, except they were not spiders at all, because they had wings like bats and tongues like frogs.

As Castiel's gaze followed one of the creatures' tongue catching a speck of glittering dust in the air, he saw him. "There!" he declared, pointing at the stalactites.

Zachariah was hanging upside-down, like a monkey who had forgotten how to right himself but discovered that it was actually more entertaining in this new position. His six wings gripped at the stalactites in the same manner as limbs would grab onto whatever branches were within reach. He was also swinging to and fro and humming a llama mating call.

"Sir, please get down!" Castiel called out.

Zachariah swiveled his head at him and grinned. "Find me a pink newt first!" he giggled.

At that, Castiel began to take flight, albeit was stopped by Persephone. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm going to find a pink newt." replied Castiel.

"You can't be serious," she said.

"I have to obey my superior." said Castiel.

Persephone shook her head as she placed him back on the ground. "Stay put, I'll get him down." she muttered.

She stretched out her hands and dried vines and old tree roots instantly burst out of the earth and the ceiling. They twisted their way toward Zachariah and proceeded to yank him from the stalactites like he was nothing more than an annoying imperfection to the landscape. And with any imperfection, the removal was not exactly the most careful process as Zachariah was merely pulled and let to fall on the ground like a rock. Castiel went to see if he was alright.

"Castiel! Any luck on locating a pink newt?" piped up Zachariah, as if falling from a hundred feet was nothing to him… which it was.

"I'm… still on it, sir." lied Castiel, fidgetting as he did so. He saw Persephone throw him a look. "Uh, perhaps there's a better chance of finding one at the Mnemosyne. You can… help me search for it, sir." he said. Persephone said that the River Mnemosyne would reverse the effects of the River Lethe, or at least that was what the rumor was since no one had ever really tried it before.

Zachariah sprang up and jumped around. "I'd love to!" he joyfully cried out.

At the corner of Castiel's vision, he noticed Persephone roll her eyes before she set off to lead the way. For the first ten minutes of their journey, the three of them walked on in silence.

"Do _you_ have a favorite amphibian?" Zachariah cheekily asked all of a sudden, startling Castiel.

"Not really, sir." replied Castiel.

"Well, _I_ have a favorite amphibian. Guess what it is!" said Zachariah.

"A… newt, sir?" ventured Castiel.

"Don't be ridiculous! My favorite is the barnacle!" proclaimed Zachariah.

Both Castiel and Persephone stopped walking and stared at him blankly, and a little fearfully.

"It can stick to whales! Can _newts_ stick to whales? I don't think so!" explained Zachariah.

Persephone nudged Castiel's side. "Hey, it's either a barnacle-loving nutcase or a bossy, overbearing nutcase." she whispered, smirking. Somehow, Castiel still did not know what version was more terrifying.

It was not long before the River Mnemosyne was visible a short distance away, and the sheer relief Castiel felt that their time here was almost over was immeasureable. However, if the river's properties were genuine, he was not particularly looking forward to his superior after he had drunk from the water.

"We're here." announced Persephone as the soil became softer with damp. At the sight of the placid waves, Zachariah took off and began splashing around in the shore.

"You sure 'bout this, sugarplum?" asked Persephone as they watched Zachariah roll and spin in the water.

Castiel regarded her words. "Regrettably." he said.

Persephone looked like she pitied him but went to the river anyway. She got a rock by her feet and morphed it into a cup, which she used to fill up with water. "Alright, big boy, bottoms up. If you're going to see any newts or whatever, you gotta drink this whole cup." she told Zachariah.

"Does it taste like indigo?" asked Zachariah.

"Sure." said Persephone, shrugging.

Thrilled, Zachariah instantly took the offered cup and gulped down its contents. Castiel was unable to prevent himself from backing away a couple of steps. As the asinine mirth vanished from Zachariah's features, to be replaced by sternness and hostility, Castiel knew that he had gotten his superior back.

"Castiel, I demand an explanation." barked Zachariah, absentmindedly throwing the cup to the river. "How did we get here, where's Charon and his boat and why, in God's name, am I doing next to this miry heathen?" he shouted, pointing at Persephone.

"You're welcome, by the way." sighed Persephone as she crossed her arms.

"What are you talking about?" hissed Zachariah. Persephone opened her mouth but was interrupted. "You know what, I don't want to hear anything from you. Castiel! Tell me what's going on, that's an order!" he yelled.

The squeak that came out of Castiel was unintentional. What should he say? Should he reveal everything? What would Zachariah do to him once he found out how he behaved after drinking from the River Lethe? Can he afford to omit some details? Would Zachariah see past his feeble attempts at lying?

"Before you interrogate him, I'd like to say that your mission's been accomplished." cut in Persephone, giving the papers with the clarified chant. "That's all you came here to do, right? The sooner you fly outta here, the better?" she asked, and Castiel realized that she was diverting Zachariah's attention, so that he did not have to answer.

Zachariah snatched the papers from her and scanned the content. Satisfied, he glared at her and spread his wings in preparation of flight. "I better not catch you frolicking up on Earth any time soon." he warned.

"Not a problem. I still got four months in this ditch." replied Persephone in a casual voice.

The two of them glowered at each other for an agonizingly long while. "Castiel, we're leaving." said Zachariah. He took off and flew ahead, totally ignoring the concept of stealth. By now, the creatures of the Underworld were aware of the presence of angels; then again, they might have already been aware of their presence during Zachariah's… period of forgetfulness.

If Castiel had been human, he would have let go of the breath he did not know he was holding. He was saved from revealing the ugly truth to Zachariah. "Thank you." he said to Persephone.

"Don't thank me yet. I put a little something in his drink." said Persephone, winking.

Castiel tilted his head. "I don't understand." he replied.

A giggle wafted out of Persephone's mouth. "Let's just say that whenever he pushes you around again, he'll have consequences." she said playfully.

"I don't want him to get hurt." said Castiel.

Persephone smiled fondly at him and placed her hand on his head; Castiel briefly wondered if this was what having a mother was like. "I wish more deities were a sweet sugarplum like you." she said affectionately. "Anyway, I promise he won't get hurt. It's just to teach him a lesson in arrogance." she added.

The stroking motions of Persephone's fingers were so soothing that Castiel nearly did not want to go. "What did you mean when you still had four months? Are you a prisoner here?" he asked when he recalled what she mentioned earlier.

Persephone's fingers stopped moving and a broken expression entered her eyes. "You best get going. I'm already getting used to calling you 'sugarplum'." she said.

Had he insulted her? Did he do something wrong? Castiel was about to apologize when he sensed Zachariah looking for him. Powerless to disobey, Castiel departed the Underworld and left Persephone with her bittersweet smile.

O_x

Things went back to normal almost immediately when they returned to Heaven. Once Castiel finished his task of organizing the prayers, he found himself in Zachariah's office sorting paperwork and cleaning the vicinity… simultaneously.

"When is my next seminar going to be?" Zachariah asked, sitting back comfortably.

Castiel clumsily pulled out a scroll from the haphazardly messy bundle in his arms. "During the eighth waxing moon on Earth." he recited with much difficulty.

"Can't it be on the seventh?" said Zachariah.

"Someone has already reserved that slot, sir." answered Castiel as he arranged the books on a shelf according to color and wavelength.

"So kick them out of it." Zachariah retorted.

The harshness of his superior's tone was enough to make Castiel falter and drop a piece of parchment. "It's already been finalized, sir. And the eighth was the closest vacancy I could acquire – "

"So you screwed up then." interrupted Zachariah, rising from his seat in the most menacing way. "You were too slow and because of that you screwed up." he said.

Castiel shrank back until his wings brushed against the shelves. "I'm sorry, sir." he said quietly.

The possibility of avoiding further conflict was thrown away as Zachariah advanced on him. "You don't understand, do you? I've been having the seventh slot of every occasion for the past five centuries. A perfect record. And now you screwed up." he growled, his lion-face showing at the edge.

"I'm sorry." mewled Castiel. He prepared for the worst: a slash to the wings, a blast of energy more painful than lightning, a strike that would send him halfway across Heaven…

Instead, an even more unbearable punishment was placed on him. "Just for that, I am not permitting you to join the other fledglings in their trip to God's throne-room." said Zachariah.

Castiel could not believe it. He had been waiting for that opportunity ever since he had comprehended the meaning of Father. They were to be the first batch of fledglings – the first batch of _angels_ (aside from the archangels) – to enter the throne-room. It was to be a 'fieldtrip,' one of the biggest enlightenments and privileges their kind could ever attain. Of course, God was not guaranteed to be there, but to bask in the residue of His holiness would be absolutely glorious.

"But sir, all the fledglings are required to attend." Castiel anxiously pointed out.

Zachariah leaned in closer to him until their faces were a hairsbreadth away. "All but one." he said lowly, eliciting a tremble out of Castiel.

Turning, Zachariah went back to his desk with a pleased air of superiority around him. When Castiel had summoned enough dignity to look up, he saw a vivid pink flower come out of the base of Zachariah's lower left wing, seeming as if it had been waiting to bloom all this time.

Castiel chose not to say anything about it and focused on his cleaning.

O_x

Whenever he was lucky enough to obtain free time, Castiel would sometimes work on a little project, namely the construction of an enormous mobile. It was to depict the map of the first ant colony he had ever seen during his earlier trips to the Earth.

He used balled up bits of the Aurora Borealis to mark the entrances and emergency exits of the anthill. For the tunnels, there were long, winding trails of petals and eggshells from every flower and bird that ever existed; they were crystallized in order to be preserved for all eternity, and each tunnel had its own unique pattern of flowers and eggs, so it often took time to complete an entire tunnel. Dots of starlight melded with chunks of boiling ice were the components to mark the ants themselves, busy performing their jobs for the colony. Strands of green, blue and violet from rainbows acted as the strings to keep everything suspended, while a puff of cumulus was used as the ceiling.

It was far from being finished, but there was no point in hurrying; he enjoyed taking it slow. Castiel was so engrossed in his work that he failed to sense Zachariah approaching.

"You made this?" he asked.

There was a moment of panic in Castiel's Grace before he quelled it and wore a modest expression. "Yes, sir." he said.

"How long did it take?" continued Zachariah, nearing his unfinished work.

"Three decades and two days." Castiel answered.

Zachariah poked one of the ants and it quivered dangerously at the proximity of his power. "And you did this without any help?" he pressed on.

"I did, sir." replied Castiel.

Seconds passed with Zachariah just staring at the mobile, and Castiel prayed to his Father that he would get the approval of his superior regarding his handiwork.

"It looks horrendous." said Zachariah. He turned the other direction and swiftly flew off, sending a hazardously powerful gust of air that caused a great number of strings to become entangled with each other. "Blow it up." he added.

As Castiel, miserably, untangled the strings, he caught a glimpse of Zachariah just before he disappeared from view. A couple of more pink flowers had sprouted under his wings.

O_x

"Ah, Castiel. I was looking for you." said Zachariah the moment Castiel entered his office.

"Is there something I can do?" Castiel asked.

"Come here. Stand behind me." ordered Zachariah.

Castiel did so; Zachariah was sitting down so Castiel took comfort in the fact that he would not be close to his superior at full height. Regardless, the power was there in his six semi-folded wings and it tremendously intimidated him.

"Now, check my feathers." said Zachariah.

"I-I beg your pardon?" stammered Castiel.

"I want you to check and count my feathers. I recently flew into an errant westward breeze and I believe a feather or two may have been ruffled, or worse, pulled out. I need you to find the site of damage." said Zachariah.

"Very well." replied Castiel, because what else could he respond to his superior with?

He knelt down and started with the base wings, and the pink flowers he had seen previously were still there, and they appeared to have multiplied. After much debate, Castiel dared not to say a word of this to Zachariah, because if he did so, Zachariah would lash out at the nearest living target, and in this situation, that was Castiel.

However, as Castiel went through Zachariah's wings, he discovered that the pink flowers were more numerous than he thought. Underneath multiple layers of feathers, where adequate concealment was available, dozens of pink flowers had grown like they would in a garden. Curious, Castiel poked one of the flowers to see if he would get a reaction from Zachariah; there was none. When he gave a flower a gentle tug, he learned that it was tucked in safely, in the same way an ordinary flower planted in soil would behave.

"Oh, and don't let your feathers stick to mine. I still question the decency of your wings." commented Zachariah.

Castiel swallowed the bitter pain of that offhanded insult and merely continued his task. An angel's wings were the most treasured part of their being, often more valuable than their Grace, because their wings symbolized what they were in creation, what they were capable of as instruments of God, what they stood for as divine warriors and keepers of the secrets of the universe.

Castiel wings were ruffled, as messy as a baby bird's who was still adjusting to the gust of winds and the twirl of tornadoes. They had been like this for as long as he could remember, and while he had long ago already accepted that he might never get wings as smooth or as formidable as the others', his Grace still recoiled in hurt and shame at Zachariah's words.

As he went through Zachariah's feathers, his eyes widened as more pink flowers emerged. And virtually in an instant, Castiel had an idea of what, or who, might be the cause of this.

" _I put a little something in his drink."_

He refused to say anything about the flowers, or his suspicions.

O_x

This time, Castiel was summoned to Zachariah's chambers. "You wanted to see me, sir?" asked Castiel as he slowly, cautiously, went inside.

Zachariah was off to the far southeastern corner of the room, fetching something from one of his shelves. "Yes, and I want you to answer any questions I have for you truthfully. Understood?" he barked.

Had he learned about the flowers? Castiel forced himself to stand his ground. "Yes, sir." he replied.

"Good." Zachariah zoomed toward Castiel and landed three feet in front of him. While he had been at a distance, Castiel would have said there was nohing (too) unusual with Zachariah's form. However, at this proximity, Castiel found himself in shock and he was left to wonder why he had not notice the differences before.

More pink flowers had bloomed, and not just on his wings. There were flowers on the back of his legs, the innermost crooks of his neck, on the top of his head where none of his four faces could see, at the gaps between his wings; basically all the spots that would be hard to notice on a typical day. He was on the verge of resembling a half-formed bush of flowers

"Is there something different with me?" demanded Zachariah.

Castiel hoped he was not caught staring, that Zachariah was simply asking for the sake of the knowing. "What do you mean?" inquired Castiel in the most innocent tone he could muster.

"Some of the angels have been looking at me… peculiarly. When I demand to know their reasons, they avoid me." said Zachariah. Castiel did his hardest to suppress a chuckle. "Is there something I'm missing? Are they mocking the new weather pattern I'm proposing?" he went on.

"I doubt it's about the weather, sir." said Castiel. Albeit he prayed that 'fiery-hailstorm-hurricanes' would not push through.

"Then _what_?" snarled Zachariah.

Castiel could not believe that Zachariah had remained oblivious for this long, but he was by no means complaining. "Perhaps it's your new policy on weapons maintenance." said Castiel instead, and technically, it was not a real lie, more of a suggestion, a likelihood. And besides, the problem might even actually _be_ the weapons maintenance.

"You think so?" Zachariah asked.

"It's possible." admitted Castiel.

Zachariah considered this for a while. "Well, they'll just have to suck it up. They either follow my rules or they flap around like the defenseless idiots that they are." he said. Two new flowers popped out of his head. He was about to leave when a thought seemed to occur to him. "That reminds me… we're having lessons again later: the enlightenment of obedience." he said.

By that, he meant torture, or the closest thing possible in the standards of Heaven. The idea was to instill traits and morals such as discipline, humility, resilience and loyalty through pain. The process, as Zachariah had desccribed, was similar to the purification of a diamond: the precious stone must undergo immense pressure and much cutting and pummeling in order to achieve its perfect shine. The finished product should be clear, be void of any impurities and can withstand great force without cracking; a predictable, blameless and resolute outcome.

"Did I do something wrong?" asked Castiel a tad fearfully.

"I just thought you'd serve as an example to those who object my decisions." said Zachariah, smiling cruelly. "Is there a problem?"

Castiel bowed his head in submission. "No, sir." he said quietly.

"Good. In the meantime, get my armor and weapons ready; put them in our 'classroom'." said Zachariah.

He had never once really used his armor and weapons; he just kept them for display, to terrorize the rest of the angels by showing them just how ferocious his weapons were, that he was definitely someone who was not to be messed with. Sometimes, Zachariah would bring them to their 'classroom' so that the splatter of Castiel's Grace would hit them as he was being 'enlightened'. In terms of Earth, a polished shield and sword was nice to look at, but a shield and sword with fresh blood staining them was what made them a grander sight, because the enemies would not dare make a hasty move. In a way, Zachariah needed Castiel's Grace – his equivalent of blood – to scare off any angel who might be against him.

Castiel had no choice but to obey.

O_x

By the end of the day, Castiel was exhausted and beaten, ready to fall apart at any moment. Every tiny momvement brought bursts of agony to ripple across his form until even maintaining his light was an enormous task. So he curled up under a weeping willow in the Garden to rest, practically melting into the shadows without his light to mark his presence. He was so tired, every inch of him hurt so bad…

Someone was shaking him. "Castiel. Castiel!"

Castiel blearily opened his eyes and, with much effort, peered up at the one who had disturbed him. "Inias?"

His brother crouched down and helped him sit up. "I heard you had… lessons with Zachariah." he said, picking the word carefully.

Castiel flinched at the mere mention of it. "Yes." he said.

There was a moment of silence as Inias twiddled apprehensively with his right wing-tip. "How are you?" he asked.

For a second, Castiel thought about not answering that question; the condition of his form should be enough to describe his predicament. "I hope to get used to it." he replied.

Inias made a small, uneasy noise, then he smiled as he reached for something inside his pouch. "Here. I got it from the Infirmary." he said. It was a healing balm, a tiny ball of light gathered from the collision of a birth of a star and a death of another, mixed with a bit of angelic healing properties.

"You shouldn't – " Castiel began.

"It's too late now, isn't it?" said Inias, his grin half-nervous and half-reckless. He offered the balm to him. "Take it."

Castiel hesitated, although the pain that shot up from his wings was enough to convince him. "Thank you, brother." he said softly. He placed the balm at his Grace to let the light be absorbed, and gradually, he felt his strength coming back.

The chance of the two of them resting underneath the shade was shattered as Hester came flying into view. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere!" she yelled to Inias. Upon noting Castiel, her expression turned somber and she slowly landed. "Hello, Castiel." she greeted coolly.

"Hello, Hester." Castiel returned.

Inias must have sensed the tension that was suddenly present, that Castiel was still very much vulnearble and not fully recovered from his time with Zachariah, and that Hester was uneasy around him due to the meaning behind his injuries. "What is it?" he asked, transferring Hester's attention to him.

Hester seemed glad to focus on something else. "Have you seen Zachariah lately?" she asked.

At that, Inias glanced at Castiel, since he was the last one to see him. "Not since… this." Castiel answered, gesturing at his form.

"Why? What's going on?" asked Inias, saving Castiel from any further scrutiny.

Hester made an odd face, as if she was holding back an earlier reaction. "You should come see. You too, Castiel; especially you." she said.

Inias and Castiel exchanged inquisitive glances with one another, although they both agreed to accompany Hester.

They landed in a section of Heaven where, ordinarily, there would hardly be any angels in sight. Currently, however, a huge crowd was present, and virtually every angel appeared to be on the brink of bursting out in laughter, but they were all holding it in, since angels were not supposed to exhibit such open emotion. The most that came out of them were furtive snickers, half-hidden chuckles and giddy whispers; this was the first time in the history of Heaven that this many angels displayed so much emotion.

There was only one angel who was not as happy as the others, and he was in the very midst of the gathering.

"When I get these things off me, you are all going to pay dearly!" screamed Zachariah. His entire form was smothered in pink flowers, right to the point that he could almost be mistaken for a moving, talking pile of flowers. When he tried to send an energy blast at a group of angels, a calm jet of flowers trickled out of his hand instead. The surrounding angels chortled even more, and Castiel found himself giggling a bit at the fate of his superior.

Once they had had enough of watching Zachariah make a bigger fool out of himself by screaming and thrashing and threatening, Hester, Castiel and Inias huddled a few meters away from the crowd. "Do you have any idea how this happened?" Hester asked Castiel in a hushed tone.

"I might." said Castiel, unable to prevent a tiny smile. "And I believe I'm partly to blame."

His two siblings stared at him incredulously. "How did you do it?" asked Inias.

"I don't believe you." commented Hester at the same time.

Castiel made certain that no one was listening before he opted to answer. "It started with our trip to the Greek Underworld," he said. He considered telling them about Zachariah's misadventures when he had been under the effects of the River Lethe, though decided against it, at least for the moment. "And… we met Persephone."

"And what did Persephone do to me?"

The three of them fell over in shock upon hearing Zachariah's voice behind them. Sure enough, Zachariah was looming above them, and in spite of his ridiculously floral appearance and delightful fragrance, the intensity of his glare did not fail to send Hester and Inias flying for safety; Castiel, unfortunately, was rooted to the spot.

"Castiel, you are in for the most brutal punishment that the laws of reality can allow." snarled Zachariah, and his lion-face emitted a full roar. "I want you tell me everything, _truthfully,_ before I pulverize you to the point that you would barely function." he threatened.

Castiel suppressed the whimper that was fighting its way to be heard. If his 'enlightenment' had reduced him to a state even less substantial than a shadow, then whatever punishment Zachariah had in store for him would obliterate every spark of light that constituted his being… assuming his powers were still fully functional given his flowery situation.

"Can I get a bit of hush 'round here?"

Both Zachariah and Castiel went to a standstill as they figured out the source of the voice; for Castiel, it eventually dawned on him that the voice sounded awfully familiar to Persephone, except tinier, and it was like she was coming from a distant location.

All of a sudden, one of the pink flowers on Zachariah, in the place where a human heart would have been placed, moved. It twitched, jerked away from the bunch and stretched a little further out, an act which reminded Castiel of a snake waking up and examining its setting. A few seconds elapsed and the flower's petals folded and scrunched to form Persephone's face. Castiel realized that the flower was a medium, a way for Persephone to communicate to them; the flower was not really Persephone herself, regardless of the fact that the petals were blinking and breathing.

Once the transformation was over, Zachariah's anger flared up again the moment he recognized Persephone's face. "You despicable – !"

"You, howler-monkey, shut up." interrupted Persephone.

Zachariah's expression went livid. "How dare you spea– !" he heatedly began.

"What did I just say?" snapped Persephone. "I'm the one who did this to you, and only I have the power to undo it, or intensify it." she said, adding an aggressive tone at the end. She shook her head disdainfully. "For a guy who goes on and on about obedience, you sure have a hard time following instructions." she said. When she turned to Castiel, her features became more pleasant and her voice much more amiable. "Hey there, sugarplum. How's life in the clouds?" she asked genially.

"Hello, Persephone. Everything is… tolerable." replied Castiel.

Persephone sighed, and if she was not presently a flower, she might have given Castiel a protective squeeze. "You poor thing." she cooed. She returned to Zachariah and her expression was irate once more. "Alright, howler-monkey, listen up: you see these flowers on you? Every time you push someone around, or you're just plain mean, flowers will pop out. Might as well have something pretty on the _outside_ to mask all that nastiness inside." she explained.

"You can't – !" yelled Zachariah.

"Do I look like I'm done talking?" Persephone brazenly cut in. "Now, flowers will keep growing on you until you start acting _nice."_ she said.

"There is no way I'm taking any orders from a cave-dwelling _whore."_ retorted Zachariah. True to her word, ten more flowers bloomed at Zachariah's face, nearly covering his mouth.

"Your choice. I think you have a future in being the first flying, supernatural bouquet." joked Persephone.

Castiel imagined his superior as a flying bouquet. It was a weird thought.

"Oh, and as a final bargaining chip, if you be good, I won't spread this around." Another flower stretched out under Persephone, albeit instead of revealing a face, it brought forth a small clear crystal. Soon, images began to form within the crystal, quickly depicting Zachariah drinking from the River Lethe and swinging upside-down from the stalactites.

"That's just a projection. That can't be real." defended Zachariah, though Castiel manage to catch the horrified waver in his voice.

The crystal was swallowed up by the flower. "There are eyes everywhere in the Underworld. You have at least a thousand witnesses." stated Persephone.

It was at that moment that visible fear flashed across Zachariah's four faces, like the rapid spreading of a plague; Castiel had never seen him so susceptible in all his creation.

"You can start by apologizing to this fledgling." said Persephone.

Zachariah's familiar mask of irritation fell back into place. "There's nothing to apologize." he muttered. A flower sprouted at his front.

"And fishes drown." commented Persephone dryly.

Grumbling, Zachariah slowly faced Castiel. "Castiel," he started, and the sheer amount of effort he was exerting was comparable to a human pushing at a boulder. "I'm… I'm… sorry." he gritted out, as if every syllable burned and ripped at his Grace.

"About?" Persephone pressed on.

A huge, resentful scowl manifested on Zachariah's mouth. "Using you as a footstool one time." he mumbled.

One flower noticeably disappeared from his form.

"That's it? Just _one?"_ he complained.

"Keep going, you'll get there." said Persephone, grinning.

Zachariah stared at her disbelievingly, and it looked like he was doing everything within his ability to prevent himself from losing control. If degradation was a real weapon, Zachariah's Grace would have been tattered beyond recognition as he, sullenly, went around Heaven apologizing to everyone he had ever insulted, taken advantage of or done wrong. Castiel tagged along because, one, he was directly related to Persephone's curse so he wanted to carry his share of responsibility and, two, he secretly wanted to see his superior humbled by every means, to witness him (in one way or another) make amends to the angels he had maltreated. It was a quite satisfying spectacle, and Castiel was glad that he was there to behold every apology, all eight hundred twelve thousand, three hundred sixty-seven of them.

"Why is a bunch still there?" Zachariah tiredly asked, motioning at the flowers still adhered to his chest.

"You'd have to do something more than just apologize." said Persephone.

"Like _what?"_ demanded Zachariah.

"Repeat after me." instructed Persephone. "Castiel, your services are no longer required. Your obligations to me have been fulfilled."

Zachariah's wings jolted in offense, while Castiel felt a flutter of hope deep inside his Grace. "That's going too far." Zachariah said.

"The things you did to him went too far! He could've left you in the Underworld as an imbecile forever, yet he still did the right thing and brought you back. Say the words!" yelled Persephone.

If Zachariah had not been embarrassed enough for today, his glare at Persephone would have been more venomous, and he would have put up more of a fight. "Castiel… your services… are no longer required. Your obligations to me… have been… have been fulfilled." he recited grudgingly. The second he finished talking, Castiel could have sworn that he felt some kind of chain that tethered him to Zachariah break apart.

"Was that too hard?" asked Persephone good-naturedly.

The last of the pink flowers leisurely detached themselves from Zachariah, including the flower Persephone was using to talk to them. Zachariah did not spend another moment out in the open; with his level of shame at its peak, he hastily retreated to his chambers.

Castiel gingerly picked up the Persephone-flower. "Thank you, Persephone." he said, and every pulse of light from his Grace reverberated with immense gratitude. He hoped she could feel that all the way down in the Underworld; he did not know what else he could say to convey his reaction, or if he _should_ say anything else.

Persephone smiled at him. "You gonna be alright? Sooner or later, the howler-monkey's gonna be howling again." she said.

That, unfortunately, was inevitable. "I know, but I'll manage by then." said Castiel.

"Take care of yourself, sugarplum." she said. There was that bittersweet aura around her again, like she was a bit sad to say farewell.

"You too." replied Castiel, and he kissed the topmost petal, where her forehead ought to be; Persephone laughed at that. When Castiel pulled away, the flower fell apart and Persephone was gone.

As he tenderly held the petals, he felt something smooth and hard underneath them. Castiel pushed the petals aside only to discover that he was in possession of the crystal that recorded Zachariah's inanity in the Underworld.

He really ought to destroy it. Zachariah had suffered more than enough for today and, besides, Heaven was still recovering from the memory of Zachariah swathed in flowers, plus the fact that he apologized to nearly every angel. He deserved some reprieve.

While that may be the right thing to do, Castiel pocketed the crystal and took flight in search of Inias. He was certain his brother, and probably the rest of his garrison, could use another laugh.

Fin (for this mini-story).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are curious of what a 'mobile' is, here is an example: http://tinyurl.com/7lfgbwg

**Author's Note:**

> Lion-face reference: 5x16


End file.
